


This Mansion of Garbage

by glennjaminhow



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Caretaking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Overstimulation, Panic Attacks, Soft Boys, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-20 19:34:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16561952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glennjaminhow/pseuds/glennjaminhow
Summary: Filled Tumblr prompt: MacDennis + Calming each other





	This Mansion of Garbage

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics are from Cannonball by Watsky. Seriously, go listen to it (big feelings). Or not. I can't tell you what to do.

_To remind me, when I fail myself, when I fail everyone around me,_  
_When I misfire and coming tearing through your walls._  
_When the cocktail of humiliation and pain poisons my veins,_  
_And this carnival of carnage, this mansion of garbage, this parking lot of carcasses,_  
_This heartbreak party drains the spirit that remains_  
_That I have been a part of something worthwhile._

**July**

Mac's cheeks are strawberry red, and he's sweating a shit ton when he enters the apartment. As much as it pains Dennis to thinks so, it's a good look on him. But Mac's brown eyes slant down while he kicks off his Chucks, stomping over to the couch barefoot because, for some reason, the dude's not wearing socks with his shoes, even though it's nearly 100 degrees outside. Gross. That's fucking revolting. It's disgusting. It's... Whatever. Mac plops down practically on top of Dennis' feet; Dennis takes the liberty of settling them on Mac's lap.

Dennis mutes the stupid murder mystery he solved within the first two minutes and watches Mac brood. He's stewing in his own anger. It's kinda hot. But never mind that. That's not important right now. What is important is getting to the bottom of why Mac's upset and correcting the problem. Dennis is excellent, a professional even, at fixing Mac's problems. He's God, after all.

"What's up?" Dennis asks from where he's sprawled out on the couch, beer in one hand and the remote in the other. It's a ridiculously hot summer day, and he's ignored his daily responsibilities for a little R 'n' R. He woke up this morning with a fierce, stabbing ache behind his left eye and decided that was it. He usually tries to push through it, but it's hot, and he doesn't want to be sweaty at all today, so he stays home, where his headache has morphed into a dull throb.

He almost wishes he made Mac stay home with him too, but he's got the AC cranked too low and is gorging himself on crime TV, two things Mac hates.

Mac doesn't say anything. His face goes from red to flushed. He wrings his fingers together. He bounces his knee up and down up and down up and down, and Dennis almost loses his Goddamn mind because the repetitive motion hurts his ears, and he can feel the pulsing in his bones. But Mac looks somehow pissed and terrified all at once, and Dennis doesn't like that.

"Dude," he tries again. "You okay?"

Mac shakes his head. He doesn't offer an actual verbal response. Dennis is so not in the mood to deal with pulling teeth for an answer today. He sits up, letting the plaid quilt fall to the floor. He nearly blushes when Mac glances at his boxer and oversized t-shirt clad form only to quickly look away like he didn't just look Dennis up and down. Uh huh. Two can play it that game.

Dennis nestles himself beside Mac. He knows Mac likes to keep him close. That's the only rational explanation he has for why Mac is so fucking clingy and bossy toward him all the time. Dennis sorta likes the closeness too, but never tell Mac that because he'll just feel empowered, and that's practically Dennis' only recognizable emotion. He places his head on Mac's shoulder and traces his index finger over Mac's hardened muscles.

"You look so great today, baby boy," he says softly, gently, like he's talking to a newborn kitten.

Mac shrugs. Nothing else.

"What's wrong, Mac?"

It's the question that sets off the unsteady, ragged breathing. Mac clutches at Dennis' - it's actually Mac's - shirt like it's his only lifeline and hides his face in Dennis' neck. His nose is snotty and hot and fucking nasty, but it only takes a few seconds for the hiccups, followed by tears, to roll in like a tidal wave. Dennis wraps an arm around Mac's quivering shoulders.

Mac's cries swiftly morph into sobs. Dennis rearranges them to where they're both lying down, Mac lying on Dennis' chest. Mac is a lot heavier than them, so it isn't exactly what he would call comfortable, but the weight is soothing in its own way. Dennis isn't having a bad day, not really at least, but this is calming him down regardless. He hopes it does the same for Mac, whose tears soak into his shirt until his chest and stomach are thoroughly drenched.

"Breathe, baby boy," Dennis whispers. "Just breathe. It's alright. I've got you."

God's got you.

"You're doing so well. Keep breathing," he instructs. "Try to relax your muscles, babe." Mac does so without question, just as he should. His shoulders release tension immediately.

Mac falls asleep just like that, snotty face hiding in clothing from 1999. He doesn't snore, so Dennis knows it isn't deep, much less relaxing. But this was Dennis' R 'n' R day, and now he's sharing it with Mac. He runs his fingers through Mac's fluffy, gel free hair, peppering kisses on soft skin where he can reach. He lets himself drift off too, Mac shielding him from the AC and the rest of the world like a blanket.

Later on, when the sun is down, and the heat is less suffocating, Mac awakens, smacking his dry, cracked lips and scanning the living room. Dennis thinks it's a hauntingly beautiful sight all while hoping Mac feels at least somewhat better. Mac sits up and leans his head on Dennis' shoulder again. This time, there are no tears or sobs.

"Den?" Mac's voice is shot to shit.

He kisses his forehead anyway. "Yeah, bud?"

"Do we have any popsicles?" he asks quietly. "'s hot, and my throat hurts."

Dennis pecks Mac's forehead one more time before getting to his feet and walking to the kitchen. He finds a box in the freezer, used for when Dennis screams himself voiceless on the really bad days. He grabs blue raspberry for Mac and orange for himself and snatches two beers for the road with high hopes Mac will be thankful.

Mac smiles just a tiny bit when Dennis hands him the unwrapped Popsicle and already opened beer. He starts licking the icy treat, and Dennis rubs the back of his neck, almost weary of breaking this moment.

But Mac pats the cushion right beside him, and Dennis settles in, bare feet tucked beneath him and Mac close by.

 

* * *

_To remind me of the pleasure of your pulse,_  
_The measure of your breath,_  
_The rise and fall of our futures and our chests._  
_These spectacular triumphs and flops,_  
_That even if that moment meant nothing to the universe,_  
_It's the closest thing to God I've got._

**January**

Dennis' shoulders hunch as Dee squeaks and squawks everywhere. He keeps swirling his finger around the rim of his glass, filled with ginger ale instead of beer. He flinches when Charlie opens the basement door and bounds back into the bar like a bundle of untapped energy. Dennis cringes hard when Frank accidentally elbows him, pistachio shells flying all over the counter in front of him. He blinks heavily, rubbing his temples with sweater paw hands. Mac watches all of this happen and knows they're heading straight into the danger zone.

"I'm pretty beat," Mac announces with a yawn, stretching to make it seem that much more authentic because he doesn't need or really want to leave, but Dennis definitely does. "You ready to go home, dude?"

Dennis clenches his hands until his knuckles turn ghost white. Mac doesn't expect a response and doesn't receive one either. He isn't surprised. He told Dennis - all but forced him - to stay in bed today the instant he came out of his room wrapped in the weighted blanket and Mac's sweater, an old winter one that's navy blue and red, that's far too big on him. But Dennis said he's fine; he's always fine, apparently. He told Mac he had a headache and would feel better once he got some coffee in his system. Dennis downed three cups before they even left the apartment, eyes fogged over with a blankness that scares Mac.

"We were gonna smash rats in the alley!" Charlie screeches.

"Yeah, quit bein' a pussy. Let's go rage," Frank adds.

"They just wanna go home to bang," says Dee.

"I will cut you, bitch," Mac spits out at Dee, turning his attention to Charlie and Frank. "And I'm not being a pussy, douche-face. I'm tired. Sue me."

Charlie blinks. "Okay, dude. But I'm a wicked bird lawyer, so you'll probably lose. Fair warning."

"It's true," Frank says. "He is a great bird lawyer. I've seen it."

Mac rolls his eyes. "Whatever. I'm out. You wanna go with me, Dennis?"

Dennis doesn't answer, but he gets to his feet, and Mac watches him sway as he tugs on his coat and shuffles to the door. He bites his lip while he steps in the slushy snow. It doesn't take a genius to know Dennis is mega overstimulated right now, but, luckily, Mac is a genius. He can handle this. He is an expert in all things Dennis, after all.

"Seat belt," Mac whispers. He's careful not speak loudly or touch as they bundle into the Range Rover.

But Dennis shakes his head a tiny bit, pointing to the left side of his neck with a trembling finger. Mac gets what it means.

"Please? For me?"

He just wants Dennis to be safe.

Dennis buckles himself in, face oddly blank considering his opposition. He covers his ears as the Rover roars to life. The rumbling from the engine isn't doing either of them any favors. There's too much noise. Too much touching him. Too much of everything. Dennis explained it to him once, babbling from exhaustion and nearly delirious from the overload. He hears everything. Feels everything, even colors. It's like when a computer freezes, too many tasks open and loading. He wants to jump out of his skin just to make it stop.

It's horrible. Mac would never want anyone to feel this way, but, with Dennis, it happens fairly often. Mac knows the signs - tiredness, wearing comfy clothes regardless of style or appeal, hiding in the bathroom, all that stuff - but knows it isn't enough. Sometimes, like today, Dennis just tries to tough it out, but it never lasts. Sometimes, he gives up before he even gets out of bed, cuddling into his pillows and refusing any form of sunlight. Sometimes, he needs Mac wrapped around him or in the living room or out of the apartment because invisible sounds wrack through his brain, and he can't handle having anyone home.

They're quiet on the car ride home. Mac focuses on the road while Dennis stares idly at the falling snow. Dennis inhales sharply when the snow melts against his face while they walk inside. The five flights of stairs aren't great either. The moment they're inside, Dennis goes to his room and collapses on the mattress, curling himself beneath the weighted blanket, ears plugged harshly with cold fingertips. His boots are wet and soaking into the comforter, but Mac knows better than to touch him or speak out loud right now when there are other ways to communicate. He grabs a pen and paper and scribbles, 'Shoes?' before showing it to Dennis.

Dennis looks at Mac with glazed eyes. They're so beautiful.

'Want me to do it?' he writes next.

Dennis gives another barely recognizable nod. Mac removes his shoes swiftly and gently. He can feel Dennis trembling through the brief touch. Rest and darkness are often the only things that will calm him down at this point. Mac quickly writes, 'Want me to stay?'

Another nod. Mac almost smiles in relief because he likes being close to Dennis.

'Living room or here?'

Dennis blinks twice; Mac gets the drift. He draws the black out curtains just in case, removes his coat and boots, and lies down on the other side of the mattress, far enough away that they're not touching but close enough that he's right here in case Dennis needs anything.

Mac drifts off listening to Dennis' light, soft snores. He double checks he's in reach of Dennis before letting himself fall into a deep sleep.

Later on, when the snow clings to the cracked pavement, Dennis curls against Mac, nestling against him, cheek smushed into Mac's shoulder. He's warm and smells like cinnamon, and it makes Mac tingle in all the right and wrong places. Mac soaks in the silence, letting Dennis get his comfort however he wants.

He's groggy when he feels a single light jab in his ribs. He blinks heavily. He can barely see in this darkness, but he knows Dennis' eyes are open and bloodshot.

Mac nods, giving him the go ahead.

Dennis doesn't speak - usually doesn't for a long time after these episodes.

Instead, Dennis signs 'I love you' in the dreary bleakness.

Mac's heart swells.

He signs it right back.

 _I'm so far from perfect._  
_So far, it's been worth it._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to follow me on Tumblr or send requests: @glennjaminhow.


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